Changing Lanes 1
by Annie2
Summary: Mulder and Scully visit Lex Luthor. Sequel to Change of Pace/Change of Space
1. Default Chapter

Changing Lanes  
  
By Annie  
  
  
Sequel to Change of Pace and Change of Space.  
Rated PG- 13 (R to follow later)  
Summary: Lex goes back to Sunnydale in an attempt to drag that little secret from Spike; however, all is not well at the Hellmouth.  
Spoilers: General for all seasons of Smallville and Buffy, particularly Buffy Season 6  
Spike/Lex  
Notes: I really miss Mulder, Skinner and Scully when they used to be the best thing on TV. The little bit of the X-Files universe in this fic is totally AU. The Files were never closed, and AD Kersh never existed.  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fictional characters mentioned here; if I did, I would get paid every time I typed their names.  
Feedback: is oxygen. crehnert@ptd.net  
  
  
  
  
  
Walter Skinner pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to prevent the headache he knew would be arriving in just a few minutes. He put his glasses back on, and then pushed the intercom button.   
  
"Might as well send them in now, Kim," he told his secretary resignedly, almost letting a frustrated sigh escape his lips. Before the door opened, AD Skinner drew on his inner strength to brace himself for yet another exasperating, never-getting-anything-coherent meeting with Mulder and Scully.  
  
"Agents," he greeted them shortly as they entered his office, indicating the two chairs in front of his desk with an incline of his head. Skinner wondered if he unconsciously kept those chairs right in that spot specifically for meetings with his paranormal investigators.  
  
Skinner watched with an appraising eye as Dana Scully smoothed her black skirt and settled elegantly in the chair on his right, losing sight of her briefly as her partner crossed to the chair on his left. Fox Mulder took his seat with nary a nuance of discomfort, obviously ready to be called on the carpet for whatever Skinner had decided Mulder had done wrong this week.   
  
Mulder leaned back in the chair, looking more at ease than his long-suffering partner, reached to straighten his tie, and then looked back up into the AD's face innocently.  
  
"You wanted to see us, Sir?" Mulder asked, while Scully cleared her throat quietly, crossing her legs in what Skinner thought was probably a defensive pose.  
  
"It's the little things, Agents," Skinner began, picking up a sheaf of papers he had in front of him. He paused, just a moment, and Scully graced him with a tentative, "Sir?"  
  
"The little things that get us all in the end. Take Capone, for instance. They tried for years to get him on all kinds of charges, racketeering, murder, you name it. You know what they finally managed to pin on him, right? Tax evasion," he said, just in case they didn't.  
  
Mulder opened his mouth to say something and Skinner stopped him by moving the papers in his hand just a bit.  
  
"The little things. Confusing reports, ridiculous expense vouchers, things like that. But when I get a call from the Director of the Bureau, who informs me HE has gotten numerous calls from irate citizens, IMPORTANT irate citizens, who are complaining about being grilled for information on futuristic brain-washing methods, I have to investigate. I have to call the Director back by the end of the day, and explain this to him. So, you are going to explain this report to me, Agents. Concisely, without any blurring of the facts and without ANY X-File-related assumptions on your part."  
  
"Yes, Sir," both Agents answered at once. Skinner looked at Scully, a bit sympathetically, she thought.  
  
"Agent Scully, I will be directing my questions to Agent Mulder. You are here to clarify anything I think is, oh, ambiguous, for want of a better word."  
  
She nodded. "I have to say, Sir, this case did seem to be totally legitimate, and if you read my report as well, you'll see I had the impression one of our interviewees was not being absolutely honest with us at the time."  
  
"That may very well be," Skinner allowed, "But we'll do this one instance at a time. My way." He half-smiled, without amusement, and Scully was glad she wasn't getting grilled this afternoon.  
  
"Agent Mulder, I have your report here, and Agent Scully's. I have read these, trying to keep an open mind, and to start off, I have to ask. Where did you get this idea of mind-control?"  
  
Mulder shifted in his seat. "I heard from a reliable source that a year or two ago, there had been a secret organization working within the United States military system. This group was called the Initiative, and had recruited both military and scientific personnel for a project involving a mind-control chip for hardened criminals; the criminals who are unable to be rehabilitated. The actual details of this were sketchy, but apparently, the Initiative ran into some kind of trouble and was disbanded, either voluntarily or by the military upper echelon. These scientists, now all looking for work, are said to have gone into the employ of one of the wealthiest men in the country, replicating their former experiments. We just interviewed some of these people about it."  
  
Skinner almost sighed again. "Your reliable source. Was it three reliable sources? Were their names by any chance Byers, Langley and Frohicki?"  
  
Mulder moved in his seat again and Scully looked down at the floor, as if there were something interesting there.  
  
"Yes, Sir," Mulder admitted readily.  
  
"And so, on the basis of some bee the Long Gunmen had in their bonnet, you accosted...."  
  
Scully looked decidedly uncomfortable then, and Mulder felt he had to interrupt.  
  
"I wouldn't say accosted, exactly, Sir"  
  
Skinner glared, as only Walter Skinner could, and Mulder closed his mouth.  
  
"You 'interviewed' prominent American citizens, in their homes, without a warrant, and without probable cause, prompting the numerous calls to the Director's Office. You have a very detailed list here of your interviewees, Agent Mulder, and if I may; J.R. Ewing, Dallas, worth conservatively three billion dollars, interviewed; Oliver Warbucks, New York City, worth about twelve billion dollars, interviewed; Bruce Wayne, Gotham City, worth about seven billion dollars, interviewed; C. Montgomery Burns, Springfield, worth 2 billion, interviewed; and Lex Luthor, son of Lionel Luthor, also conservatively estimated in the billions, interviewed."  
  
"It's him, I know it." Mulder interjected.  
  
"Not to mention," Skinner went on doggedly," the plane tickets, hotel rooms, meals and rental cars involved in all this mansion-hopping."  
  
Scully sighed. "We tried to see Lionel Luthor, and couldn't get an appointment,"  
  
Skinner interrupted her briefly with a "Thank God,"  
  
She blinked and continued. "So we went to see the son instead. Mulder is right, Sir. Lex Luthor is definitely hiding something."  
  
Skinner pinned her with a look. "Suppose you tell me about the Luthor interview, Agent Scully."  
  
  
  
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Leaning over the table to line up his next shot, Lex Luthor paused momentarily, surreptitious sidelong glance drinking in the movement of Clark Kent's hips as he walked around the table to watch Lex shoot. If Clark had been trying to distract him, it would have been the perfect ploy. Lex felt his fingers tighten around the smooth wood of the stick, aiming his gaze back where it belonged.  
  
"Nine ball, corner pocket," he called quietly, executing the intended move flawlessly.   
  
Clark groaned and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Lex. Can't you miss a shot or two? Once in a while? Not on purpose, but don't you ever hiccup, or get an itch, or anything?"  
  
Lex straightened up, hefting the stick lightly as he walked around the table, lining up his next, and winning, shot.   
  
"Letting you win wouldn't do you any favors, Clark. Eight ball, side pocket," he said. Sleek move of his arm, sharp clack of the balls, and Game Over.   
  
"Best three out of four?" Clark asked hopefully, reaching for the rack, collecting the balls.  
  
Lex smiled triumphantly. "As I have already won three, Clark, I don't see how another game will make any difference."  
  
Clark shrugged, favoring Lex with his enticing smile. "I just like playing," he admitted.  
  
Well, Lex liked playing, too, and anything that would keep Clark in the room with him was tremendously convenient.  
  
Lex took a drink from his bottle of water, watching from a chaste distance as Clark leaned over the table to rack the balls. Which reminded him.  
  
"So, Clark, birthday next week, right?" Lex asked, changing the one track his mind had difficulty staying away from. "Seventeen?"  
  
Clark smiled sheepishly. "Yea, next Wednesday. Did I tell you that?"  
  
Lex walked closer, ready to start the new game, sliding his pool stick back and forth in his hands without thinking.  
  
"Lana told me," he replied. "Loser shoots first," Lex reminded him, indicating the stick in Clark's hand.  
  
Clark sighed and broke, balls scattering across the table loudly in the large room. He sank one, and then walked around slowly, searching for his next shot, Lex's eyes watching the play of every muscle he could possibly discern under Clark's clothes.  
  
"Leave it to Lana," Clark complained. "My parents said I could have a party if I wanted to, but I just don't feel like a party, somehow."  
  
"Well, I'll still want to get you something to mark the occasion," Lex said lightly. "What'll it be? Trip to the Riviera? Lamborghini? Remodel your loft with state-of-the-art electronic toys? Fun trip to Metropolis with Lex Luthor as your guide?"  
  
Clark looked at Lex then with an unreadable expression on his face. "I think the only one of those things my parents might actually somehow be talked into would be the fun trip to Metropolis. Maybe even with the guide."  
  
Lex was smiling casually at the thought, plans whirling in his mind already, when they were interrupted by soft knocking on the thick doors. Lex turned and scowled. Pool playing time with Clark, in reality any time with Clark, was strictly off-limits to interruption; it was the first rule emphasized with every member of the staff their first day on the job. Someone was so fired today.  
  
"Yes?" Lex called irritably.  
  
Georgine, one of the cleaning staff, peeked into the room cautiously, the thought running through Lex's head that the girl was probably afraid of what she might see. No such luck, Lex lamented silently.  
  
"The FBI, Sir," she informed him.  
  
Lex was more than annoyed; what the Hell had Lionel done now?  
  
"Why didn't you just tell them my Father is in Metropolis, Georgine?"  
  
"They want to speak with you, Mr. Luthor. They were very specific."  
  
"Fine," Lex told her shortly, afternoon ruined for him now. "Just bring them here."  
  
Clark was standing next to the pool table, frozen in place. "FBI?" he asked, as the maid closed the door behind her. All he could think of was FBI, government, Men in Black. Clark, the alien.   
  
Clark paled slightly, and Lex looked down quickly to hide his interest in the boy's reaction.  
  
"It's okay, Clark. I'm sure they're not here to haul me away. And they couldn't possibly be here to haul you away, right?" Lex noted the new, even paler shade of Clark's face at his words.  
  
Clark turned away and laid his stick down on the table. "I probably should be getting home anyway, Lex," he said, heading for the door at a fairly fast pace. "Can we finish the game tomorrow?"  
  
Lex gave Clark his easy smile, the one he reserved for Clark particularly. "We can finish the game anytime you want, Clark," Lex assured him.  
  
Then Clark was gone, edging out through the door past the returned Georgine and the two federal agents, who spared him a glance as he brushed past them hurriedly. Mulder's glance lingered a tad longer than Scully's, as the personification of healthy, well-bred All-American male sidled by him with some murmur of apology or other. Mulder didn't catch the words, only the tone, and the golden skin, deceptively relaxed muscles, deep hazel eyes, long lashes and lush lips. Mulder never went that way, but if he did, that boy would be a flannel-wrapped taste treat. The sight put one of the rumors they had garnered in town at the forefront of his mind, although 'fag' was not a word Mulder would have used to describe the heir to billions who was waiting for them with an air of interrupted business hanging in the room around him. Hmm.  
  
Lex took in quite a lot, quickly; beautiful, petite redhead, cool green gaze and all business. Lex wondered if she would turn out to be the Good Cop or the Bad Cop, and if the choice was dictated by whether or not she had her G-Woman clothes on or off. The Alpha Male of the team, on the other hand, was absolutely smooth; tall and lanky, sharp eyes belying the casual, almost amused, look on his face, and he moved like....well, he moved like silk, seemingly uninterested in the room and its' pool-playing occupant. Unlike the female, who had her badge out in front of Lex almost before her partner had started to reach inside his suit for his own ID.  
  
"FBI, Mr. Luthor," she said, "I'm Agent Scully, this is Agent Mulder. We only want to ask you a few questions, and then we'll be on our way. We can assure you this is an information-gathering visit only, and you aren't in any kind of trouble."  
  
Lex looked from her eyes to her badge, then turned his attention to Agent Mulders's, barely giving the picture a glance before he turned away and laid his stick on the table, careful not to disturb the lie of the balls.  
  
"I didn't expect that I was in trouble, Agent Scully." Lex replied, almost dismissively, as he went over to the bar and then around behind it. G-Man tensed almost perceptibly, and Lex smiled.   
  
"No guns back here, Agent Mulder. Just drinks. Would either of you care for one? I'll assume water will do, as you seem to be on duty. No?" He said, when they both shook their heads slightly.  
  
"No, thank you, Mr. Luthor. We've had lunch in town."  
  
"Well, then," Lex began, coming back out into the room proper with a bottle of water in his hand. "What service can I do the FBI this afternoon?"  
  
"We'll be brief," Mulder told him, getting right down to business. "We have heard allegations of a secret government experiment conducted in the field of mind control. This occurred about two years ago, led by a Black Ops group known as the Initiative. Apparently, they had a few successes with this. We've been trying to track down either the scientists themselves, or the subjects upon which the experiments were performed."  
  
Lex congratulated himself on the fact that he didn't visibly blink, tried to distract himself with a visual of the two of them naked, just so his face would betray nothing of the sudden shock Mulder's words had caused him. This was the last thing on Earth he had expected to hear. There must have been a flicker of something in his eyes, though, because Scully blinked, almost too quickly to see, mind processing something, and she looked at her partner's face. Mulder never looked back, but Lex could see that he knew she had looked at him. Lex marveled somewhere in the back of his surprised mind at the level of silent communication the pair had achieved, wondered just how long they had been working together and if it was all business.   
  
Lex laughed shortly. "Just because Smallville is the Weirdness Capital of the World doesn't mean anyone in this town knows anything about mind control," he told them condescendingly.  
  
"Actually," Agent Scully told him. "We had lunch at your coffee shop. It was very good by the way, and the staff was quite helpful. We got an earful of stories, weird happenings, even weirder people."  
  
Lex smiled tightly. "As you have interrupted my weekly pool game, I'd appreciate it if you would get to the point of the visit."  
  
Mulder smiled now, kind of mockingly, Lex thought. "We are sorry. We'll speed things up here and then you can call your pool partner back. He may not have gone far. The point, Mr. Luthor, is that the allegations go further to say that when the Initiative was destroyed, some of the scientists went to work for one of the wealthier citizens of the United States, who wanted to continue the mind-control experiments on his own. There were rumors of escaped subjects, who might, even now, be under some kind of control. We're just looking for the scientists, or one of the subjects. I can see we're wasting our time here. If there were secret experiments going on around here, someone would know. Secrets never stay secret, and especially in small, closely-knit little towns like this. Weird happenings are our specialty in the Bureau, and we would appreciate it if you'd give us a call if you hear about anything.....strange."  
  
"I'm quite sure I won't, Agent Mulder. Either hear or call you. But thank you for your interest."  
  
Agent Scully cocked her head the tiniest bit. "Don't you own Cadmus Labs?" she asked curiously.  
  
"Some of it," Lex replied easily. "But I can assure you there isn't anything resembling mind control going on there. We process crap here in Smallville, Agents, and we are always looking for ways to make crap better. Would you like a tour? I can arrange it."  
  
Mulder bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at Luthor's obvious effort to be charmingly impolite.  
  
"That won't be necessary," he said.  
  
Lex went to his desk and buzzed downstairs to the kitchen. "Georgine, if Clark is still here, will you send him back up to me, please?" He didn't wait for an answer, looked back up at the Federal Agents piercingly. "Being in the FBI, I assume you can find your way back out?"  
  
"Of course," Agent Scully told him, turning immediately to the door, looking back as her partner hesitated, reaching into his suit again for a small white card to place on Luthor's desk.  
  
Mulder stood with two fingers on the card, looking right into Lex's eyes. A very cool customer, this Luthor heir, even at this young age, and far from what Mulder had expected. Mulder almost hoped his suspicions were right, because this was a worthy adversary, and Mulder wasn't finished with Smallville just yet.  
  
"Mulder," Scully prompted, anxious to get back to the rental car and discuss Lex Luthor.  
  
"Just in case," Mulder insisted. "Sometimes things don't turn out the way we think they will. Ask for Mulder or Scully. Make sure you tell the Operator who you are, because I wouldn't want to miss your call. Various reports I have heard indicate you and/or Mr. Kent have been in attendance at nearly every strange incident since you've arrived in Smallville. I heard your first meeting with the Kent boy was pretty extraordinary by itself. Lucky for you he was there. Lucky for a lot of people that he's here, if local color is any indication. Maybe I should wait and speak to him."  
  
Lex stilled dangerously, and deliberately ignored the card, cool eyes memorizing every facet of Fox Mulder's face. "I won't call. As for Clark, he's underage. You need his parents' permission to speak with him. You won't get it, but I'd enjoy watching you try."  
  
Mulder pulled his hand away from Lex's desk, not wanting to push any further, prophetically feeling AD Skinner's hard glare on him. "I'm sure you're right. We won't waste any more of your time. You can get back to your.....game."  
  
Mulder turned to join his partner, and Lex was almost amused when he didn't put a hand on her back as they went through the door and disappeared down the hall.  
  
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Walter Skinner looked at his two agents in dismay.  
  
"That's what I'm supposed to tell the Director? You think Luthor's involved because he got pissed off when you interrupted his pool game and made veiled threats against his friend?"  
  
Mulder smiled. "No, Sir. I think Luthor's involved because an hour after we left him, he used his credit card to book a flight to California. Where the Initiative was supposedly based."  
  
  
  
  
  
End Part 1 


	2. Changing Lanes 2

Changing Lanes 2  
  
By Annie  
  
Rated: PG-13; implied slash Summary: Lex goes to Sunnydale to make a deal with Spike. Of course, things never go as planned. Spoilers: Buffy Seasons 5 & 6 Disclaimer: Not mine, even after sacrifices to the gods. Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net  
  
  
  
  
  
Lex sighed. Yet another plane trip during which he was getting nothing accomplished en route. What was it with these trips to Sunnydale? The sudden slam of memory, triggered by Alpha Male G-Man's questions of mind control projects, had really thrown him. Not that he had forgotten Spike, that could never happen. Even now, a year or so later, the mere thought heated his blood, distracted him from the briefcase full of reports he had wanted to finish on the way West.  
  
Lex had been getting impatient, wanting to know what it was with Clark Kent, because there was definitely something. Wanted to know if the oblique references Spike had made to Clark last year had anything to do with the cryptic note he'd left on his desk that night. Hints about things on the museum tape; about things in town. Spike had tried to attack Clark that very night, and Lex began to wonder if it was the sheer desperate hunger that had driven him, or something else. The unexpected visit from the FBI had given him the perfect excuse to go to Spike again.  
  
At any rate, Lex wasn't even sure he'd find Spike in Sunnydale. After the debacle he'd encountered there.Lex shuddered inwardly, trying to erase the memory of the creatures, the fallen Slayer and a devastated Spike from his mind before he turned around and flew right back to Smallville, bypassing Sunnydale and the vampire altogether.  
  
Lex knew the Feds would find out he'd booked a flight to California, but his intention was to grab a cab at the airport and head about two towns down the highway to get a rental car, paying cash. California was a big state, and by the time they tracked him to Sunnydale, he planned to be back at the mansion, playing pool with Clark and making business deals as usual.  
  
It was late, almost midnight, by the time he drove into town, which he could see was none the worse for wear after that Apocalypse or whatever. He smiled a bit, thinking he could drop by the Bronze, give Anya a thrill, but he glanced at the bag of supplies he'd picked up a few hours ago and headed straight to the cemetery. He parked off the highway, grabbing the bag and then standing uncertainly by the car. This may not have been the best idea. The Slayer was dead. There could be other demons or vampires around, unchipped. Lex didn't have any weapons. He supposed he could always offer them money, but thought that would probably be a bit ludicrous to a demon. Well, he wasn't stopping now. He headed in the direction of Spike's crypt, remembering every step he had taken last time he'd been here.  
  
Lex paused in front of the door, with the sudden thought that maybe Spike wasn't even here anymore, what with the Slayer gone. He walked determinedly to the door and pushed it open with some effort.  
  
Dark inside, discarded bucket of some kind of take-out food on the floor by a chair, the only illumination coming from the moon. The only sound coming unexpectedly from the deep recesses of the crypt.  
  
"You are definitely not what I need to be seeing right now, Luthor." Spike grumbled from a dark corner to Lex's left, and oh, the voice washed over Lex and through his blood and he really should, no, shouldn't have come here. The sound made the rush in his veins more hectic, pulled him further into the crypt, toward the dark temptation that was Spike.  
  
Spike took a step forward, cigarette dangling from his mouth, all dressed in black and looking like someone's evil wet dream.  
  
"You are still here," Lex remarked. "I was wondering."  
  
"Bloody well still here," the vampire agreed darkly. "And you can leave anytime now. What's in the bag?"  
  
"Supplies," Lex replied. "I was feeling nostalgic. Thought we'd get together, have a few drinks, go over old times, maybe a nip or two," he continued meaningfully, walking closer to Spike, warily, opening the bag to empty its' contents on the table. Two shot glasses, big bottle of Tequila, salt, lemons.  
  
Spike picked up the salt and lemons, raising an eyebrow at Lex in the dark.  
  
"Yea, right," he scoffed, throwing them in the general direction of the discarded take-out bucket. "I'm not talking to you, Luthor. I have things going on here, you have no idea, and I'd hate to take them out on you. Or maybe I wouldn't. Are you a punching bag tonight?"  
  
Lex unconsciously took a step back, and hated himself for it. "I wasn't sure you'd be here, what with the Slayer being gone.."  
  
"Slayer's alive," Spike informed him shortly, ditching the cigarette and cracking the seal on the tequila, noting the expensive label.  
  
Now Lex was surprised. "After that fall? How did she manage to accomplish that?"  
  
"Long, pathetic story," Spike told him softly, starting to pour himself a shot of the liquor.  
  
"You aren't going to tell me." Lex realized. "Not even a nutshell recap? You're good at those, as I remember."  
  
Spike was silent, examining the clear liquid in the small glass, hurt in his eyes, hurt and something else, something that almost looked like remorse. "No nutshell. No recap," Spike murmured, tossing the tequila back and slamming the shooter on the table harder than Lex had expected.  
  
"Join me?" Spike asked, tilting the bottle toward the two glasses, forcing the memory away, pictures of Buffy crying in her bathroom, just a few hours ago, and his mind was reeling, wanted to stop the pain in his dead heart, stop the pain in her. He downed another shot quickly, burn in his throat like penance, and drinking Tequila with Lex Luthor was the last thing he wanted to be doing right now.  
  
"That was the general idea," Lex said, taking the bottle from Spike, pouring his own shot and another one for the vampire. Maybe alcohol would loosen his tongue. Or make him hungry. At this point, Lex wasn't sure exactly what he wanted from Spike; a repeat of their last time together in Lex's office, or information.  
  
"Pesky little chip still giving you trouble, Spike?" Lex asked, watching Spike's throat muscles work as he swallowed the tequila, still incredulous that this was a vampire before him.  
  
Spike looked at Lex as if Lex had staked him. "What about it? Changed your mind about the little deal I offered you? Well, deal's off. I have other plans now."  
  
Lex was amused. "Do your plans involve the FBI at all?" he inquired casually.  
  
Spike took yet another drink. "FBI?" he repeated. "Why would I make any plans with the FBI?"  
  
Lex shrugged. "Well, I don't know that you would, but they're making plans for you. If they can find you, that is." Lex proceeded to tell him about the visit he'd had with the two agents.  
  
Spike looked at Lex hard. "They aren't going to find me. And you're here to tell me this, out of the goodness of your black Luthor heart, that it?"  
  
"I came to warn you, Spike. To help you. Then you'll help me"  
  
Spike laughed. "Seems to me you're the one needs the help here. I'm not afraid of the FBI, but I would think you'd be, what with harboring all those Initiative scientists. I don't want to help you."  
  
Lex poured more tequila. "I was thinking of a simple exchange of information, Spike. I warn you about the FBI; you tell me what you saw on my museum tape. Unless you'd rather bargain for something better; red and warm, maybe."  
  
Spike's hand shot out faster than Lex could track, grabbing Lex's throat firmly, then abruptly releasing him as the pain ripped through the vampire's head.  
  
"I do seem to bring out the worst in you, don't I?" Lex asked, rubbing his throat, where there would almost certainly be bruises tomorrow.  
  
"I've seen the worst in me tonight and you don't have fuck all to do with it," Spike gasped bitterly, pain finally easing up, soothed by another swallow of alcohol that Spike was desperately hoping would erase his memory of the last six hours or so.  
  
"What have you done, Spike? What's going on here?"  
  
"Nothing for you to know," Spike replied. "Go back to Kansas and never come here again. Leave the bottle."  
  
"So, no deal then?" Lex asked. "No information about the tape, no hint of whatever you found out in town, no helping you hide from the FBI?"  
  
"Nothing for you tonight, Luthor." Spike determined, trailing off as a new idea seemed to come to him. "On second thought, there might be something you can help me with."  
  
"In exchange for?" Lex inquired.  
  
Spike almost smiled. "Your curiosity has finally gotten the best of you, hasn't it? After all this time. So, Lex, tell me, how are things in Smallville? How's the Talon going? And Clark? Has he matured? Did you get into his pants yet?"  
  
Lex tried not to show his anger at the sound of Spike actually speaking Clark's name. "You leave him out of this. I have no intention of 'getting into his pants,' as you so crudely put it."  
  
Spike laughed. "You can't fool a vampire. The first time I saw you looking at him, I knew you wanted to fuck him."  
  
"I don't want to fuck Clark."  
  
Another short laugh. "No, you want to eat him alive. And see, there's the thing. This thing you want to know. I think, after you hear it, you'll wish you hadn't."  
  
"Try me; I'm very resilient," Lex told him.  
  
Spike studied him for a moment. "Right then, makes no never mind to me in the long run, I guess. You thought I attacked Kent because I was so desperate for blood."  
  
Lex nodded, not wanting to speak and have Spike change his mind.  
  
"I told you the headache was blinding. I lied. There was no headache."  
  
Lex frowned and had to ask. "The chip malfunctioned?" This made him uneasy, considering what had occurred in his study later that evening.  
  
"I shook hands with Farmboy in the Talon that night. And then we went outside, where he thought he was going to change a tire for me. See, I had seen him change a tire earlier that day. On the family truck. Without a jack to hold it up. One-handed."  
  
Well, that didn't phase Lex at all, and he looked at Spike in exasperation.  
  
"You're not telling me anything I haven't already half-guessed, Spike. Clark has been around Smallville most of his life. There are more people affected by those meteors, developing any number of strange abilities. I've been sure Clark has been affected and he just hasn't been willing to talk to me about it yet."  
  
"You're not understanding what I'm telling you, Lex. This sodding chip only fires when I try to harm humans. When I shook his hand, I knew I could feed from him. Man, was I mistaken. He threw me down the alley and across the street. Right through a shop window."  
  
Lex was holding his breath. "You mean." He couldn't voice the words.  
  
"Kent isn't a meteor freak; he isn't even human."  
  
Lex downed another shot, trying to piece it all together; all the things he hadn't been able to explain, and that Clark had simply not bothered to talk about. The weak, sick feeling Clark tried to hide every time he got near pieces of the meteor; every little unexplainable thing that had happened since the day Lex had met Clark. Since the day Lex had hit Clark with his Porsche.  
  
"And my museum tape?" Lex asked.  
  
Spike snickered. "More Farmboy, I would think." The vampire was amused. "You really didn't know. I don't know exactly what he is, but I know what he's not."  
  
"Not human," Lex breathed, coming closer to Spike. "Why wouldn't you tell me? I would have paid a lot. I would have given a lot more," Lex told him, reaching out to touch Spike's chest, but the vampire's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.  
  
"Not gonna happen. I'm through."  
  
Lex shook his head slightly in puzzlement. "Through...what? Through being a vampire? What?"  
  
"Through with every thing; through trying to prove myself and falling on my face. I found out some stuff. I have to do things, to fix myself. You want to do something for me, Luthor? Something genuinely bloody helpful?"  
  
"A deal's a deal," Lex affirmed seriously. "What do you need?"  
  
"Nothing that should be very hard for you to manage," Spike replied. "I need a plane ticket to Africa."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------  
  
Spike went to Africa.  
  
Lex went back to Smallville to finish the game.  
  
  
  
  
  
The End 


End file.
